


Tenuous

by feusgan



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: (I GUESS? It's far from a Happy Sap Farm), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, T-rating for thematic elements and some vague torture business, but like... platonically I guess?, just some guys being dudes being warlords with 6 limbs and a salt quarry between them, maybe some timeline weirdness- more on that in the notes, military inaccuracies probably, ocelhira
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-09
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-09-06 22:11:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8771377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feusgan/pseuds/feusgan
Summary: How to Save your Base's XO When the Big Boss of Comas is a Flaky Bastard: An Instruction Manual.An AU(?) in which Snake didn't stay awake in 1984. This throws a wrench in some plans, especially a certain small Training Operation/Commander Rescue detail. Submitted for Ocelhira Week 2016 "Coexisting" prompt, but probably falls under "Hurt/Comfort" as well if the standards are low enough.





	

_V Has Come To._

 

The code had rung out through phone lines all over Eastern Europe and the Middle East. People had begun to mobilize as planned- whether they knew it or not. Emergency meetings were held, plans laid out in meticulous detail. Everyone knew their role and duty. Prepared, aching for the return of Big Boss as if the warlord were sustenance to the starved hunger for vengeance. Standing on the edge, just waiting for the word. One word, and it would all come crashing in. _Cry "Havoc!" and let slip the_ -

“The Word” ended up being two.

 _False Alarm_.

His conscious state had been temporary. Those close enough to be briefed directly were told that he hadn’t even lasted 24 hours. In less than a day, nine years of preparation had been ready to fire in a single instant. Now it was back to the waiting game. For some, in much higher stakes than others. Miller, specifically. Training. Afghanistan. Capture. Having his ass rescued by Snake when he woke up had kind of been the hinge the whole thing swung on. So fucking now what?

Ocelot had manipulated the field enough to raise alarms at various neighbouring forts- leaving Ghwandai underpopulated as forces were redirected to areas on higher alert. Some contacts among the Mujahideen had then stormed the town, using the guise of a guerrilla attack to extract Miller. All involved on the Dogs' side of the op had emerged mostly unscathed, save maybe for a few extra scars and bullet wounds, Miller included. The Afghans fled in the post-attack confusion and transported Miller to a nearby LZ, handing him over to Diamond Dogs' staff in exchange for payment and weapons outfitting.

Ocelot had met the extraction team on the Command Platform, seen Miller in person, received a detailed report from the medical team on the physical aspects of his condition. But his mental state- as the multiple botched amputations had taken priority- had mostly been unattended to as the doctors focused on keeping whatever desert infections were raging in the ruins of his limbs from doing a better job at laying him out him than the 40th Army had managed. Ocelot rounded the corner of the curtained-off bay and braced himself for anything from violence to catatonia. Somewhat to his relief, it was mostly the latter. Miller sat about half-upright, headrest placed at a low angle. He was calm in body, cleaned up and tucked in, but the decade-old lines and creasing in his face betrayed his steady posture. He gazed up at the drop ceiling with a combination of profound disappointment and a thousand-yard stare, his good eye tracking floaters as head trauma and pain control wracked his cognition.

“Miller.”

“… _Snake_.” Miller didn’t take his eyes off of the ceiling as he hissed out the one word they were both thinking.

“I know,” Ocelot sighed, in his repulsively comforting drawl. He dared to drag over a drafting chair, daring even further to sit close enough to use the bed as an armrest despite the web of IV lines and oxygen cannula tubing. He decided to toss Miller a bone- the man was short a few now, after all.

“What’s the plan from here, Commander?” He kept his voice low and tone soft, opting at first for the benevolent approach.

“Is there even a point? Nearly a decade in and we’re a far cry from our former glory.”

“Survival wins out over glory, every time. As long as we live, he lives. The _legend_ lives. We aren’t here to prosper in his stead, we’re here to keep the foundation steady until he’s here to build up the rest, however long it takes.”

Miller could only manage a frustrated sigh in response, turning his head away in something between denial and rejection. Ocelot took advantage of his waning energy and lucidity.

“We’ll downscale our activity while you get back on your feet. It’ll give you a chance to rest more thoroughly; better chance you’ll be in any condition to support Snake when he comes back. Keeping a lower profile at the moment isn’t a bad idea overall, anyway.”

Miller grunted his reluctant affirmation, unable to debate.

“You took quite a fall for him. I’m sure he’ll be grateful when he wakes up. He _will_ wake-“

Miller suddenly turned at an alarming speed to stare Ocelot directly in the face, aggression radiating from every cell in his body, even the eye swollen shut.

“Soviet interrogation tactics. How many of those bastards would have learned from _you_?” Miller’s speech was slurred, but bitter resentment sliced cleanly through. Something seared through Ocelot’s sternum, probably labeled “guilt” by anyone more acquainted with remorse.

“… It’s likely some of them did. Amputation isn’t typically in my playbook, you must've given them hell.”

“I’d hope some of the other things they put me through aren’t in your playbook either,” Miller huffed, deadpan, gaze drifting idly back to the ceiling. Ocelot didn’t have a reply, or an apology. He watched the outputs on the vitals monitor and waited for an appropriate opportunity to change the subject. The lapse in conversation drew in two medics waiting to finish rounds, saluting both commanders before approaching Miller. Ocelot let the staff handle seeing to Miller’s comfort, offering commentary in Russian when asked about Miller’s mental state. The bickering started the moment they were left alone.

“Don’t trust me with my own testimony?” Miller snarled.

“You probably would have gotten aggressive. I’d rather have you assaulting me verbally, given your current condition. Plus it’s less work for all of us if the medics don’t have to restrain you.”

“ _Hah_ , you’d probably give an order to have me sedated the instant I pissed you off,” Miller growled.

“You already have, and I didn’t,” Ocelot stated matter-of-factly. Miller sighed, riled but beyond the ability to argue, and sunk back into the mattress as the painkillers the medics had given began to set in. Ocelot shifted, pensive.

“ _Hm_. Times like this I can see why Snake keeps you around.”

“What do you mean?” Miller sighed.

“The condition you’re in, been to hell and back, bedridden, and you’re still fighting, even if the enemy seems to be proper rest and recovery at the moment.”

“… I thought that was going to be commentary on how entertaining I am while stoned and incapacitated.”

“Well, there’s also that. I’ve heard some things about your drinking on the old Mother Base; when Snake’s back we’ll have beer shipped over and we’ll spend some time getting him caught up,” Ocelot mused.

“I’ll hold you to that. I don’t get you, you were insulting me two minutes ago.”

Ocelot chuckled and took the liberty of patting Miller on the forearm.

“Welcome back to the fray, Kazuhira Miller.”

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline-wise I was under the impression that Snake was awake for a few days before XOF got their shit together, with the hospital attack happening at least a week later? Assuming the indicator was increased activity in Cyprus for a length of time (and not increased activity in general), being partially conscious for less than a full day wouldn't cause the same amount of disruption as being fully awake for more than a week.
> 
> Was also under the impression that Miller went to Afghanistan as soon as Snake woke up, given the "take the heat off of Cyprus" line in one of the tapes.


End file.
